


wanko, tuko

by thunderylee



Category: Deka Wanko (TV), Japanese Drama
Genre: Drama Crossover, F/F, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, jiu (japanese drama)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-20
Updated: 2011-08-20
Packaged: 2019-01-27 17:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: He never thought he would have to see her again.





	wanko, tuko

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

He never thought he would have to see her again.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, not bothering to try to mask his irritability. She never noticed it, anyway.

This time she does, which has Kiri frowning at how blank her eyes are. “I’m sorry,” she says timidly, not at all like the happy-go-lucky detective he used to know. “I was transferred here. I’ll try not to get in your way.”

“In my way…” Kiri repeats, confused. “Hey, why are you dressed normally?”

Now she turns at him, just a hint of hostility in her eyes before her mouth twitches and she answers him evenly. “Very funny. It wasn’t my choice to be photographed like that, you know.”

Kiri blinks. “What are you talking about.”

“What are  _you_  talking about?” she replies.

He takes in her appearance, short hair that’s curled at the bottom and proper women’s business suit. “Wanko?”

“Who?” she replies, shaking her head. “My name is Kadokura Misaki.”

“Oh.” Kiri steps back and quickly bows. “My mistake. You look just like an old colleague of mine.”

“One you didn’t care for very much, apparently,” she says, and he straightens up to see a soft expression on her face. “And you are?”

“Sorry, Kirishima Ryuta,” he introduces himself sheepishly. “It really is a striking resemblance.”

Misaki smiles. “Let’s work well together, okay?”

Kiri nods and tries not to notice that Wanko’s smile is bigger.

*

Naturally, Misaki is assigned as his partner on the traffic route. Kiri thinks they like to assign him to the girls because their strengths are matched, but they won’t say it to his face. Instead they tell him that the girls are more comfortable with him, which is just as insulting since it implies that he’s not very intimidating.

Once he finds out Misaki’s story, however, he’s grateful that she’s with him. “He really didn’t do anything to you?” he asks bluntly.

“He really didn’t,” Misaki replies, completely unnerved. The perks of being a cop are that it’s easy to discuss triggering things as professionals. “We’re still after him, though.”

“‘We’?” Kiri prompts.

It may be the lighting in the car, but Misaki’s cheeks take on a tinge of pink. “My roommate, Isaki-san. We’ve both been reassigned to throw him off.”

Kiri nods to himself as he drives around their jurisdiction. It’s not common to find traffic violators in the middle of the day, which he supposes is a good cover for whatever Misaki is really doing. He still has a hard time looking at her, especially in a squad car that reminds him of late-night stakeouts. Each glance to the side shows him Wanko’s big grin and equally as big curls for a quick second before fading to the solemn, straight face of Misaki.

“So what’s my doppelganger like?” Misaki asks suddenly, and Kiri visibly jumps. “Sorry,” she adds quickly, “but you keep looking at me like you don’t believe what you see. Did you two part on bad terms?”

“We didn’t part at all,” Kiri mumbles, hands gripping the steering wheel as he stares straight ahead. “I just asked to be reassigned. Once I was, I didn’t go back.”

Misaki just nods and watches the scenery as they pass. “Was she nice?”

“Too nice,” Kiri replies. “She thought the best of everyone, even bad guys. She’s way too naive to be on the force, but she has this talent for following particular scents. Like a dog, which was why we called her Wanko.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Misaki says, her voice a deadpan, and Kiri wonders if she ever laughs. “We are nothing alike, then.”

“Not at all,” Kiri agrees. “She insisted on wearing these puffy dresses and bows that made her look like a doll. She was the joke of the force, except that she kept catching the bad guy.”

“Did you request to be reassigned because of her?” she asks, then clears her throat as Kiri freezes. “Sorry, I’ve said too much.”

“Yes,” Kiri answers, being honest for the first time. “She drove me crazy. I couldn’t work like that.” He swallows. “You think I’m a horrible person now, don’t you?”

“I don’t judge others,” Misaki says darkly. “I’m sorry I remind you of her. I’ll do my hair differently tomorrow.”

Kiri doesn’t say anything as he turns onto the next street. Wanko would have never changed herself for anyone.

*

He probably should have knocked, but he didn’t expect her to be indisposed. He’s walked into her dorm unannounced many times to wake her up; she’s surprisingly bad at hitting the snooze button on her alarm. She’s never been indecent – until now.

She’s also not alone, leaving Kiri shell-shocked in the doorway at the pair of curves pressed against each other on Misaki’s bed. This must be the roommate, Isaki-san; she certainly seems as forceful as Misaki speaks of her as she covers Misaki’s body with hers, lips pressed against the pulse point in Misaki’s neck while her fingers disappear underneath white panties.

“Oh, shit,” Kiri gasps. He feels his eyes widening and wants to turn and leave with all of his power, but his feet won’t move. Isaki-san’s long, dark hair cascades over her bare breasts, one of which is in Misaki’s hand, and Misaki herself has more expression on her face than Kiri has seen in the few weeks they’ve worked together.

“What the fuck,” Isaki-san growls, and Kiri thinks her voice may be deeper than his. “Are you just going to stare like a pervert?”

Misaki blinks towards him and bites her lip. “I’m late, Motoko.”

“He can wait,” Isaki-san replies, casting such a nasty glare over her shoulder that Kiri falls back on his ass in his hasty attempt to get out.

He races all the way out of the building, past his car and into a conbini across the street. Trying to look natural, he waves at the cashier before locking himself in the bathroom and shoving his hand down his pants. It’s a natural reaction, he assures himself; any self-respecting man would get off to the thought of two women together like that. One of them is his partner, but he’ll worry about that later.

Turns out he has more to worry about when it’s not Misaki’s face he sees in front of his eyes as he comes, at least not the one  _she_  wears.

*

It’s not even awkward, but Kiri doesn’t expect it to be with as emotionless as Misaki is. Spending every working minute with her just makes him yearn for Wanko’s animation, not that he would admit that out loud.

“Could it be…” Misaki says softly as they cruise their route a few weeks later. “Hanamori Ichiko-san?”

Kiri swerves. “Wanko?”

“Ah, so it is that one.” Misaki points towards the police radio. “You may want to pull over.”

A quick glance shows that she’s serious (of course she is), so Kiri checks the traffic and pulls alongside the road. Once the car is in park, he turns up the volume and stares at Misaki.

_“… hit by the suspect’s car. Detective Hanamori Ichiko was taken to the hospital-“_

“No!” screams Misaki, and it dazes Kiri so much that he halts in his reach for the gear shift. “You’re not in your right mind to drive. Switch places with me.”

Kiri thinks about arguing for a fraction of a second, but she’s already pulling at his tie and shoving him out of the driver’s seat with strength he would have never thought of her. If it were any other situation (if she were Wanko), it would be kind of hot, but under the circumstances all he can focus on is putting on his seatbelt and yelling at Misaki to “Go, go, go!”

Another perk of being a cop is using the siren, which parts the traffic on both sides of the road as Misaki swiftly weaves through the city to the local hospital. Kiri doesn’t realize he’s gripping his own hands until he doesn’t feel them anymore, looking down to see his knuckles completely white, and this is about when he gives up trying to fight his true feelings. Obviously he still cares about Wanko, always has, although this goes a little beyond detective camaraderie.

“She drove me crazy because I was in love with her,” Kiri grits out through his teeth, and one of Misaki’s hands pries his apart.

“I’m sorry I’m not her,” Misaki tells him, “but you can pretend if you want.”

Kiri’s still trying to figure out what that means when they reach the hospital, his focus shifting as he throws open the door and starts running before the car has fully stopped. He flashes his badge at anyone who matters and doubles over breathlessly at the check-in desk; he may be just a bit out of shape.

“Hanamori,” he gasps, looking desperately at the nurse. “Hanamori Ichiko, is she here? I’m with the police.”

She doesn’t have to know that they’re not even in the same jurisdiction anymore, and she doesn’t look like she cares either way. “Follow me,” she says in a monotone voice, and Kiri practically steps on her heels as she leads him down the hallway.

Wanko will be fine, he tells himself. People get hit by cars all the time. Most of them walk away. But Wanko isn’t most people – she’s not as strong or sensible or even as cynical as the other cops on the force. She’s sweet and endlessly loyal, like the animal whose trait she imitates, and that’s part of what attracted Kiri to her. The only reason she frustrated him so much was because he was denying his feelings, which increased with every smile or cute statement she made. She’s so feminine that she makes him feel like more of a man than anyone else, and looking at Misaki every day just reinforces everything she’s  _not_.

If she’s alive, he’ll tell her, he vows inwardly. No matter what, he’ll take care of her.

“Kiri-san!” that unmistakable voice cries from the room as he walks in, expecting the worst and finding the exact opposite. Sitting on the hospital bed, both legs swaying in those colorful striped tights with a grin that’s just as bright is Wanko, looking more alive and well than Kiri’s ever seen her.

“What…” he starts, feeling that frustration come on again. “The police radio said you were hit by a car!”

“Not me,” Wanko tells him, smoothing out the pleats of her dress. Today it’s pink and purple and kind of makes Kiri’s eyes hurt. “It was Shige-san. But he’s okay. I just got shot at.”

“Shot  _at_?” Kiri inquires, trying not to acknowledge the fact that he feels really stupid right now.

Wanko holds up the side of her dress. There’s a big hole the shape of a bullet that went through both the fabric and the petticoat underneath. “I’m fine, but they made me come here anyway. Did you really think it was me?”

He swallows. “Yeah. I did.”

She pouts, hopping off of the bed and spinning around to show how very alive she is. “See? I’m fine – oof.”

His hand halts her, bringing her to an abrupt stop entirely too close to him, and he can’t stop himself from cupping her face and pressing their lips together. Wanko gasps but doesn’t pull away, her hands resting on his shoulders and she leans up to reach him better. She makes him feel tall, too.

“Kiri-san,” she breathes against his lips, but Kiri isn’t ready for the kiss to end yet. She giggles as he goes in for more, the sound more than welcome after weeks of nothing, and her arms slide around his neck as she happily gives in.

A throat-clearing interrupts them, and Kiri drags narrowed eyes over his shoulder to see Misaki standing with Isaki-san, who’s wearing a smirk big enough for both of them.

“I was nearby,” Isaki-san explains, “and we owed you one.”

“Don’t ask,” Kiri says to a confused-looking, albeit breathless Wanko. “This is my new partner, Kadokura-san.”

Misaki nods in greeting, but Wanko ducks from under Kiri’s arms and runs towards her. “Wow! You look just like me!”

“Imagine that,” Isaki-san says. “They say everyone has a twin. Hey, since everything is okay now, Misaki-chan and I were going to grab some lunch. Would you two care to join us?”

Kiri turns to Wanko, only to see her glancing towards him questioningly, and his heart swells. “Are you up to leaving?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she answers, rubbing her head. “I feel kind of dizzy.”

A fist punches Kiri in the shoulder, and he spins back around to see Isaki-san putting her arm around Misaki. “Nice going, loverboy. We’ll just leave you two alone. Although it’s good to know you won’t be perving on my girlfriend anymore.”

Kiri feels the heat spread through his cheeks as they leave, even when Wanko blinks up at him. “Kiri-san?”

“Call me Ryuta,” is all he says, then leans in to taste her lips again.

*

He’d thought the petticoat would get in the way, but it actually helps hold up Wanko’s dress as he slides his hand between her legs.

“Ryuta-kun,” she whispers into his mouth, all innocent and pure and fuck, he’s been dreaming about this moment for years. “Shouldn’t we-”

“Please don’t tell me to stop,” he says desperately, feeling choked by his own tie that Wanko takes between her fingers. “You said it was okay-”

“Ryuta-kun,” she says again, more forcefully, and smiles when he looks up at her. “I was just going to suggest that we move to the bed.”

Something akin to a growl escapes from Kiri’s throat as he picks her up from the couch, carrying her bridal-style across his apartment and into his bedroom. She stands out from the dark blues of his decor, just like she does everywhere else, and Kiri rushes to crawl on top of her and pick up where he left off. Her dress is impossible to get off, but she helps him and even giggles at how frustrated he gets at having to wait to touch her.

“I recognize this look,” she tells him, smiling widely. “You used to look at me like this all the time.”

“About that,” Kiri says, dragging his lips down her jaw while his hand lifts to palm one of her breasts. “I couldn’t stand to be with you for one more moment… without being  _with_  you.”

She grabs his hand and puts it back between her legs. “Be with me now.”

Growling again, he fuses their mouths together and slips his fingers under her panties to where she’s wet for him. She moans into his mouth and he pushes a finger inside her, then two, carefully stretching her, and he feels on top of the world when her body rocks back against him. Her hands flying all over him, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders before reaching for his pants, leaving him with only his tie that she keeps looped around one hand as she kisses him heatedly.

“ _Ryu_ ta,” she moans, her hips gyrating faster, and Kiri fingers her harder. “Oh god, be with me now, please-”

And she comes, shuddering beneath him and clamping down around his fingers, and Kiri can’t find a condom fast enough. She shimmies off her panties and yanks him by his tie, taking him between her legs and his length just slips inside her. It happens so fast that Kiri loses his breath, her muscles tightening around him from her orgasm, and her nails dig into his back as he starts to move.

“Wanko,” he gasps, then corrects himself. “I mean, Ichiko.”

Her grin looks even better when her face is flushed. “Wanko is okay like this.”

This girl. Kiri shakes his head as he leans in to kiss her, sharing breathless moans as he makes love to her until they know nothing but each other and that higher plane of feeling. She comes twice more before Kiri groans low in his throat, snapping his hips as his back breaks out in a sweat and all of the tension accumulates inside him. Her skin is soft, her lips plush and commanding even as he starts to lose it, hooking his arms around her shoulders and using every ounce of his energy to thrust into her.

“Wanko,” he says again, and she arches from the force of yet another orgasm, taking Kiri with her. They both shake as they hold onto each other, Kiri regaining control of their kiss as they hit their high and then come down. Wanko’s trembling afterward, and Kiri doesn’t hesitate before taking her into his arms. “Are you cold?”

She shakes her head and laughs, her face pink and glowing, and he moves enough to collapse next to her instead of on top of her. She just rolls over closer to him, though, and he can’t bring himself to mind.

“I always did like your scent the best,” she tells him, rubbing her nose against his. “I missed it when you weren’t around anymore.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, and kisses her big smile.


End file.
